


Prince Fleetfoot

by megyal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-12
Updated: 2008-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:04:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tale of Fleetfoot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prince Fleetfoot

In a land very far from here, there was a castle; in the shadow of that large and beautiful building, there spread a big, bustling town. In one of the rows of brick houses, at the very end, a sick little boy was refusing to go to sleep.

"Grandmama," he said very seriously, his face flushed with fever. "I will wait 'til Father and Mother return home. I want to hear a story."

"They will be late, child, for the High King is meeting with them at the Palace," his grandmother fussed, trying to tuck the little boy under the thick covers. The little boy frowned and tried to kick off the quilts, and his Grandmother sighed. "Go to sleep, little one."

"A story," the boy insisted. "I want a story."

"Story?" A woman's voice wafted in and the little boy brightened at the sight of her wide grin. She was dressed in the severe robes of the Palace High Guard, dark with rows of buttons right in the middle, her rank displayed on her shoulder with some sewn golden bands. "What kind of a story?"

"Mama!" The boy watched in bemusement as his mother stumbled into his room and nearly fell over her own feet. "Oh, be careful, Mama."

"A story," a voice rumbled from the door and the boy watched as his tall, quiet father strolled in, grasping onto his mother's arm. Together, they made their way to the bed as Grandmother took a seat in her rocking chair. "What story would you like?"

"Any story!" The little boy looked up in his father's kind eyes and smiled. "You know the best ones, Papa."

"Flattery, my boy, will get you everywhere." His father took off his tall pointed hat, and set it on a nearby bedside table, pushing the cheerily shining lamp a little out of the way. "Come, settle in, and I will tell you about Prince Fleetfoot. A part of it now, and you will go to sleep, alright?"

The little boy agreed readily, and snuggled close to his father's warm side, as his mother settled in beside him. He felt so safe and happy, and he listened carefully to his father's soothing voice.

"This is the Tale of Prince Fleetfoot," the tall man began.

>   
> 
> 
>   
> 
> 
> There were two ogres living in a forest with their ogre-child...

"No, no, no!" The little boy sat up and stared at his father in reproach. "You must start with ' _Once upon a time'_!"

"Quite right," the father said gently, brushing back the fringe of hair from his son's forehead, and continued.

>   
> 
> 
> _Once upon a time_ , there were two ogres who lived in a forest with their ogre-babe. They roamed the land and hunted animals and kept out of the way of humans, as much as they could. One day, they came upon an overturned carriage, a wonderful thing done all in white and gold, with royal symbols curling on the sides... but it was full of death, for a woman and a man lay unmoving inside. There was also the sulphuric trace of dark spells, and the three ogres meant to pass it by, wary of the terrible energy, but they heard a soft cry near the bank of the road, and saw a baby, barely wrapped in white and gold swaddling, his poor little arms and legs having little cuts from being flung from the carriage. Even his forehead had a mark, not deep, but unfortunately very jagged; but he was alive, and fairly well for all that.
> 
> The largest ogre said, "Aha! Here we have a child, so nice and fresh. He will make a good meal for us tonight, for the dark magic has not stained his skin at all." And his ogre-wife, her own ogre-son strapped to her back, said, "No, I want it. I want it as my pet."
> 
> And they argued and argued, until the ogre-wife had her own way, for that was how it went sometimes.
> 
> They took the little babe home, and found that he had a golden trinket strung around his neck, and no matter how they tried, they could not remove it. They grew the little boy, and dressed him in roughly sewn furs, using their clumsy ogre magick to fix it to his skin as if it were his own, for they disliked his bright green eyes, and his dark hair, and his scar. Even the trinket around his neck they feared and hated, for it was filled with a gentle yet strong magic, and it hurt them if they tried to do the boy any harm. As he grew, he spent nearly all his time cleaning and cooking for the three ogres, dressed head to toe in his heavy furs, even covering his face, so that he looked very much like a small ogre himself.
> 
> As the boy grew, he did not take the habits of the ogres. As a matter of fact, he was a very sweet boy. He was also a very _fast_ boy, and could outrun nearly everything, and so they called him Little Fleetfoot, and then as he grew even more, they dropped the _Little_ completely.
> 
> One day, as Fleetfoot was out gathering wood to make the breakfast for the ogres (who ate quite a lot), he saw a grey wolf lying on the ground near the river. The wolf was very still and appeared to be dead, and while Fleetfoot was very sad that such a glorious wolf was dead, he needed some more pelt to add to his fur covering. So, he went near and was about to draw his tiny knife, when the wolf spoke.
> 
> "Slay me not, young man," the grey wolf whispered. "Please, I am still alive."
> 
> "Oh!" Fleetfoot dropped his little knife, and touched the grey wolf on his side. The wolf's eyes opened, and large yellow eyes fixed on Fleetfoot's, which were seen through two holes roughly cut in his fur hood. "I've never met a talking wolf! Here, I have some food." And kindhearted Fleetfoot took out a small bit of bread out of his pocket; he had baked it last night, and the wolf ate it weakly.
> 
> "Here, I shall bring you water," Fleetfoot said, and away he raced, as fast as the wind to the river, and returned. The wolf drank quickly from his little bowl, and looked a little better.
> 
> "You are a strange little ogre," the wolf said. "But I am not a wolf. I am a man, enchanted. A wizard in a castle turned me into this form, and chased me out of a kingdom that he had claimed as his. But this wizard is a pretender the the throne."
> 
> "Is he?" Fleetfoot, who had never heard about things, was entranced. "A man, enchanted! What is your name?"
> 
> "Remus," the wolf told him. "And what is yours?"
> 
> "I am called Fleetfoot."
> 
> The wolf was about to say something else, when his eye fell upon the golden trinket around Fleetfoot's neck. He widened his amber eyes and shuffled close. "Kind Fleetfoot, tell me another thing. Where did you get that little gold trinket around your neck?"
> 
> "I've always had it," the boy responded, looking down at the delicate golden chain and the round pendant hanging from it. "It cannot come off. I've tried and tried, but it never has. It doesn't bother me, anyway."
> 
> "And... tell me, Kind Fleetfoot, what is written on the back of it?"
> 
> "Oh, but I cannot read," Fleetfoot said softly, turning the pendant over in his hand and staring at the tiny writing on the back of it. "But there is a tiny painting inside, would you like to see?"
> 
> As the wolf nodded, Fleetfoot touched the pendant and it opened slowly. A man and a woman were so cleverly rendered on one side of the pendant, so much so that they seemed to be alive.
> 
> "I dream that these are my parents," Fleetfoot said softly. "But I know they are not. I do not look like them at all."
> 
> "You... you have never removed your cloak?" The wolf asked, voice trembling slightly. "It covers you so well, except for your bare hands and feet."
> 
> "The ogres I live with have their own kind of magick," Fleetfoot said with a tiny smile. "They have done it so that the furs are like my own skin and I have never seen my own face. But do not worry, dear wolf! Those are things that do not bother me at all. Come, I will take you to a cave, and you will be safe and warm for a time, until you get stronger."
> 
> And so Fleetfoot led the wolf to a nearby cave, and took up his firewood. He raced back to the grimy cottage of the ogres, and heard them speaking as he passed by the window.
> 
> "Our son is getting married, we must have a feast!" The father ogre was growling.
> 
> "How can we have a feast!" The mother ogre screeched. "We do not have any animal to roast and feed our guests, and now that old hag from across the river will be ever so smug that I did not give my darling son a lovely wedding dinner."
> 
> "Fleetfoot," the son grunted. "He's bony, but he will make do for a fine roast."
> 
> "No!" The wife was incensed. "He is my pet! Who will clean the house if we eat him? Who will wash the floors and gather the wood? And you cannot harm him, his gold trinket will pain us terribly."
> 
> "It will hurt only for a moment, and we will get you another pet," the Father Ogre said, "now that we know that a human child is good for these things. Listen me well: as soon as Fleetfoot returns, we will pounce on him! And pop him over the fire, right quick."

"No!" The little boy cried in agitation. "No eating kind Fleetfoot!"

"Hush," his mother said with a smile. "Let your father continue."

> Fleetfoot dropped his firewood in shock, and the large flat face of Father Ogre appeared like a dark moon in the window. He bared his teeth at the boy and rushed towards the door with his son, and Fleetfoot took off.
> 
> Oh, how fast Fleetfoot was; he fled over hills and slipped among trees, and no matter what clumsy magicks the ogres flung at him in order to slow him down, he was ever so quick. He was far ahead of them in no time, and raced to the cave where the wolf was resting.
> 
> "Brother Wolf," he panted as soon as he arrived. "I must flee, the ogres are about to have me for a wedding feast. Come, are you feeling stronger? Let us leave!"
> 
> "No," Remus said, his thin body quaking. "I am still weak. But, if you carry me, I shall tell you where to go."
> 
> Fleetfoot took up the poor wolf, and put him over his shoulders. He ran out of the mouth of the cave, and spotted the ogres thrashing through the trees after him. Remus told him to go in the direction of the setting sun, and off he went. Fleetfoot and Remus traveled far away; until Remus was better, Fleetfoot carried him on his shoulders, and this made him even stronger and faster, for even though Remus was sickly, he was still very heavy. But Fleetfoot did not complain, and he tended his friend until he was well enough to run on his own. Even then, Fleetfoot was a hard person to follow, since he moved so fast and so quietly. Yet, they made their way to a large town, where a castle stood on a hill over them all. The castle looked a sorry place, and Fleetfoot stared up at it from where they hid in the surrounding forest.
> 
> One day, as Fleetfoot was slipping around the town to find something to eat, he saw a great gathering of people. He tried to go as close as he could, but feared that the towns-folk would throw stones at him if they saw him.
> 
> He spotted a fair head in the crowd, the fairest of them all; a young man stood laughing in the midst of them, hands on his hips. Fleetfoot stared at his pale, sharp face. He had never seen someone with such bright hair, even though the young man's eyes were very mocking.
> 
> "Who shall race me now?" The man with the shining hair cried, his grey eyes dancing. He was dressed in fine, light clothing. "Who shall take my challenge?"
> 
> "I shall!" A young woman with long red hair stepped forward. "Let me take your challenge, Lord Draco."
> 
> The young man sketched a quick bow. "As you wish, Ginevra. Although I never lose, especially to a Weasley. And there are so much of them to race! I feel I run against one every week."
> 
> The young woman's lips pressed tightly together and her eyes flashed, but she did not say anything; she simply took her place under a lush bower with the smirking Lord Draco. A tall, sallow man with a pinched expression created a surprisingly large explosion with some black powder and a flame, and off they went.
> 
> Fleetfoot watched in surprise. Lord Draco ran quickly, and was at the finish line a long time before the young lady; he gave her a smirk as she panted to the end.
> 
> "Of course. In any case, I am glad to not be forced to make my troth with your and your family. Next! Who is next to take my challenge? Is there no-one?"
> 
> The crowd muttered and began to disperse, shaking their heads as Lord Draco grinned. The sallow man that had made the explosion approached him and spoke in sharp tones.
> 
> "Lord Draco, do recall that the king himself has promised you many riches if you would become the royal consort. I do not understand your need to find someone to compete with, to choose as the one to take your hand."
> 
> "Because I must find someone worthy," Lord Draco said in a voice just as cutting. "Do not question me, Severus. You are only my godfather, and you have no say." He bent near to a large gilded box, retrieved a golden ball, and dashed away, laughing as he threw it up in the air; Fleetfoot drew back quickly, but Lord Draco threw the ball too high and could not catch it in time.
> 
> Fleetfoot stared down at the ball as it landed and rolled to touch his dirty toes. He grabbed it quickly, and for some reason, he fled with it. He heard an angry cry from behind and he almost flew over the rocks and trees in his haste.
> 
> He could hear Lord Draco chasing him, and he ran even faster, until they reached a small clearing and he turned to face the angry young man.
> 
> "Ogre!" Lord Draco cried, reaching for his sword. "Hand over my possession," the young lord snapped. "Or I shall slice you to shreds."
> 
> Fleetfoot hesitated, and then said, "Race me. If you win, I will give you your golden ball. "
> 
> The lord gaped at him, then put his head back and laughed and laughed. "What a funny ogre you are! I've never heard one speak so well, nor seen one with those eyes. Very well, Funny Ogre. We shall race."
> 
> Fleetfoot rolled the ball towards the other end of the clearing, where he had spotted Remus in hiding, and took his mark.
> 
> "Go!" Lord Draco cried... _after_ he had already dashed off. Fleetfoot gaped at his bright fluttering cloak, then gritted his teeth and raced after the laughing man, catching up to him quite easily.
> 
> Lord Draco stopped laughing as Fleetfoot slipped passed him and ran towards the other end of the clearing to pick up the golden ball. He was waiting for the dumbfounded Draco as he skidded to a halt.
> 
> "No one has ever raced me and won," the lord said in a small voice, his eyes wide. "Oh, _no_ , this means..." His face tightened. "Race me once more."
> 
> "Not today," Fleetfoot said hurriedly, and turned to disappear into the forest. Draco reached out and grabbed onto his furry covering, and the ogre-magick dissolved at the touch.
> 
> Lord Draco stared as the fur slid right off, revealing an arm that flashed pale in the green gloom as Fleetfoot escaped. He stared at it in his hand, and when he looked up to call after the funny ogre, he could not see him again.
> 
> Fleetfoot waited until Lord Draco stomped away; he crept back to his friend Remus, who looked at him closely. "Ah, I can see your hand," he noted, and Fleetfoot looked at his exposed arm in surprise. "You will need clothes, if any more of it falls off. Come, I will show you where to get some."
> 
> And so, Fleetfoot followed his friend the wolf around the town, sneaking up towards the castle. They made easy work of hiding from the lazy guards, and they quickly made their way to a very small door, almost completely hidden by a wall of ivy around the very back of the large, sad castle.
> 
> As Fleetfoot stood in front of the little door, wondering just how he could crawl through such a small door as that, much less open it, the pendant on his neck began to rise. Fleetfoot gasped as he was dragged down, and the pendant tapped on the little door, just once. Instantly, the door began to change, growing larger while small lilies curled out from where the pendant touched the wood, as if someone invisible was painting them quickly on the surface.
> 
> The lilies reached the lock, and it clicked open.

"More," the little boy said sleepily. "Go on, Father!"

"Not today," the father said gently. "Tomorrow, I shall tell you more."

They pulled the quilt up to his chin, kissed him good night and retired to their own rooms for the night.

  


The little boy was waiting in bed for his father to continue the tale of kind Fleetfoot the next day. He was tucked tightly into bed even before evening had fallen, and grew very impatient as the sun set and his parents did not return from the castle. He had taken every drop of the potions for his illness! He had eaten all his dinner when Grandmother had brought it up, even the vegetables! Now, the little boy thought he well deserved to hear about Fleetfoot.

He heard the clomping of horses' hooves on the cobbled street beneath his window, and slipped out of bed to perch on the deep sill and peer down. He saw his father and mother step out from a bright carriage, the horses proudly standing tall. As they exited, a dark head with a slender crown tucked securely on it emerged and the High King spoke to his parents.

The little boy stared as the High King looked up at him, smiled and gave him a little wave. The boy waved back with all the enthusiasm his fever allowed, and then rushed back to bed as he heard the steps of his parents on the stairs, scrambling under the heavy quilt and grinning as his father opened his door.

"Did you see the High King?" His father asked him with a gentle smile. "He said to tell you hello. And he wanted to know if you would grow up to be a Castle Archivist like your father."

"He told me hello?" The little boy fairly quivered with excitement and his eyes were large and bright. "Oh! I would like to become a part of the Royal Honour Guard, like Mother!"

"Ah, it is excitement you seek," his father said in mock disappointment, settling on the bed and pinching one of the boy's cheeks. "I have had too much of that to last me many lifetimes, so I prefer to stay with the old books and scrolls. But... I wonder if there is someone here who would like to hear about Fleetfoot?"

"Me!" The little boy shot his hand up in the air and waved it desperately. "Me! I would like to hear the rest!"

"Then, listen well."

  


> Kind Fleetfoot watched in amazement as the very tiny door grew to a large, arched entrance, the lovely lilies looking almost real as they bloomed quickly in gold ink on the white surface. As soon as the lilies touched the lock, it clicked open, and the door pulled open a little way.
> 
> "Come!" Remus pushed the door wider with his nose and slipped into a dark corridor. Fleetfoot closed the door and padded down the dark passage behind his wolf-friend, feeling the space open up around them as they came to a larger area. Silver sconces lit up as soon as he entered, and he found himself standing in a wonderful, round room, with paintings on the walls drawn to resemble windows looking out on an enchanted forest. A unicorn was in one painting, its eyes shy yet wise; in another, a fierce centaur glared at Fleetfoot, hair wild as he grasped his bow and arrow. Stars were painted on the ceiling, and they seemed to twinkle as Fleetfoot gazed up at them. One large painting showed a man and a woman in fine clothes, smiling at each other as they stood arm in arm beneath the trees. They were all so life-like, and Fleetfoot half expected the red-haired woman and the dark-haired man to turn their heads and smile at him.
> 
> "This is the secret room of the Queen," Remus said. "At least, it used to be, before she was killed with the King. I and her husband the High King were the only ones who knew about it, and there was but one way in, and one way out... and only one key."
> 
> Fleetfoot looked down at his pendant, where the same man and woman had been painted inside. "This... _this_ is the key?"
> 
> "Yes. Look at her eyes, Fleetfoot! Note the eyes of the Queen."
> 
> Fleetfoot looked at the large painting; the images on his pendant were small even though they were cleverly drawn. On the large painting, Fleetfoot could see the exact colour of the Queen's eyes. They were green, and exactly like his in shape.
> 
> "Oh," Fleetfoot breathed, and reached out a trembling hand, almost touching the painted flame that was the hair of the Queen. "Oh, this cannot be."
> 
> "But it is," Remus said, sitting on his haunches and fixing Fleetfoot with a sharp look. "And her beloved son was called Harry, he who was lost to us when the Royal Carriage was attacked. The terrible wizard seized the empty throne, and no-one knew this to be so, for he had changed his own form to resemble the High King exactly, and that of a greedy wench to be the Queen. When I found out, he changed me into a wolf, and called a hunt, chasing me through glen and dell. It is how I found myself in your forest so far away, and the gods led me right to you."
> 
> "I'm not her son," Fleetfoot said miserably. "I am just a stunted ogre who is losing his skin."
> 
> "You _are_ Harry, and as kind as your parents were," Remus said, his voice gentle. "And it is you who must defeat the Dark Wizard. But, for now, we will retrieve some clothing for you. Look in that large wardrobe, you will see some things the Queen had put aside for her husband as a gift, before they had been killed."
> 
> Fleetfoot found fine clothing and gazed at the wondrous material, fine dark green robes with golden threading. He touched the slits in the full sleeves, which would show the material whatever worn underneath. Best of all, he pulled out a long sword still secure in its scabbard, and Fleetfoot drew it clumsily.
> 
> "That is the sword of a king of old, called Godric," Remus told him quietly. "The Queen had retrieved it, and had it restored with powerful spells and charms so that she could present it to her husband. Take them! Take them and let us be away, for the dark wizard's magic will soon detect that this secret room has opened for us, and begin a search."
> 
> Fleetfoot gathered the clothes and sword in a bundle, and they were out of the castle and down the hill, Remus loping along beside his friend.
> 
> When they returned to the town commons, they went into the forest and passed by the clearing where Fleetfoot had raced the Lord Draco, on their way to the warm cave where they had made their home. Fleetfoot started, for the Lord Draco was standing there waiting, his hair shining in the moonlight.
> 
> "Wait here," Fleetfoot whispered, leaving his bundle with Remus, and went out to meet the young lord.
> 
> "I have come to race you again," Lord Draco told him imperiously. "This time, I shall not lose to you, Funny Ogre."
> 
> "As you wish," Fleetfoot said. "But if I win, you must stop calling me ogre, and call me Fleetfoot."
> 
> "What kind of name is _Fleetfoot_?" Draco scoffed, and stretched in preparation of his race. "You must have another name."
> 
> Fleetfoot hesitated. "I think I might be called Harry as well."
> 
> "You _think_?!" Lord Draco wrinkled his nose at him. "Harry is a better name. Common enough for you. Go!"
> 
> And he was off again. Harry sighed and took off after him, passing him quickly, reaching the other end before the infuriated young lord.
> 
> "Ugh, you little--" Draco spat, and reached out to grab the other, who slipped away, but not before Draco seized another bit of his furry covering and it came away in his hand.

"Again?!" The little boy whispered in excitement. "Oh, his other arm this time?"

"How clever you are," the father told his son. "Yes, the other arm, and our friend Harry Fleetfoot slipped into the forest and met with the wolf, to find food and rest in their cave. And you know, it happened again a third time! But that is a story for tomorrow."

"Please!" The little boy begged. "Please, Papa! Tell me just a little more, and I will go right to sleep, I promise." He hugged his father tightly, and felt his father's large hand pat him on the back.

"Now, now. Sometimes, it is good to wait. Tomorrow, my dearest. Tomorrow."

  


  


The little boy was much feeling better the next evening and he was waiting in bed as his father came in. His father nodded, a small smile curling at the edges of his lips and then said, "See, I have brought you a wonderful visitor."

The little boy's eyes went large as the High King stepped into his room, dressed in all his royal finery. The King reached up and carefully removed the slender ringlet of gold in his dark hair, setting it down on a nearby table. He took off his heavy cloak, folding it neatly and placing it on the table as well, before approaching little boy's bed. He nodded his thanks as the father placed a seat for him very close. At such a distance, the boy could see that the King was still a very young man, with a kind, strong face.

"Hello," the King said. "I hear that your father has been telling you a story?"

The little boy nodded and then grinned as the King smiled at him. "A story about Harry Fleetfoot!"

"I have heard that one," the King said, his eyes twinkling. "I even know what happens next. Would you like to hear?"

"Oh, yes," the little boy breathed. "Yes, please."

"Alright," the King said, and he leaned close.

> The third night that Lord Draco raced with Harry Fleetfoot, he lost again. How angry Lord Draco was! He had never lost before, and now he had been bested _three times_ by what appeared to be a scruffy little ogre who was losing a lot of his fur; because of the challenge he himself had issued, he was honour-bound to give his hand to this beast. Lord Draco was so angry, that he grabbed with both hands on the back of Harry Fleetfoot's heavy fur coverings as he tried to run away again, and pulled hard.
> 
> The last of the ogre-magick dispersed, and Harry had to grasp onto the fur before it would slip from him completely and leave him bare. He ran and ran with all his might, leaving a cursing Draco far behind. Then Lord Draco set his jaw and calmed himself as much as he could.
> 
> "I will track this ogre, this Harry Fleetfoot. Then I shall.. I shall.. I don't _know_! But something drastic will be done!"
> 
> And then he set to his task. Lord Draco was very good at tracking once he put his mind to it, and followed the trail that Harry Fleetfoot left as he had escaped through the forest. Presently, he heard the sound of a small, cheerful stream, and when he peeked from behind a small bush, someone was sitting on the bank of the river, next to a wolf.
> 
>  _Aha!_ Lord Draco thought to himself. _I've found you, Harry Fleetfoot. But there there he has a wolf which might prove dangerous... let me wait and see._
> 
> To his shock, he heard the wolf begin to talk. "Oh, well," it said in a very gentle voice. "There is nothing left to do than go take a bath in yon river, and put on your new clothes."
> 
> Harry Fleetfoot heaved a huge sigh, and shuffled off to step into the babbling water. Lord Draco watched with narrowed eyes as the little ogre stepped into the river, and then he saw when the fur covering was pulled away by the swift current of the water. The young man in the river scrubbed at his skin thoroughly, washed his dark, messy hair, and Lord Draco averted his eyes as he stepped out, for the fur had hidden a very fine young man. Or so Lord Draco thought to himself, a man with skin almost as pale as his and very bright eyes.
> 
> Harry Fleetfoot put on his father's clothing, and looked at his reflection in the river, unable to stifle a gasp. "I've never seen my own face before," he said, touching his cheek with his hand and jumping a little at his own fingers, which looked strange without the fur. "I.. I look like the King."
> 
> "And the King you are," the wolf said, bowing before the bemused Harry. "You must defeat the dark wizard, and take your proper place. Only then, will I return to my proper form, and the kingdom will regain its glory."
> 
> "And I shall help," Lord Draco said loudly, stepping out from behind his hiding-place. He was a very shrewd young man, and had decided on many things in his heart. He would help Harry Fleetfoot to overthrow the Dark Pretender, and also establish himself as the Royal Consort. Besides, Harry had won at his own challenge. _It is my duty to give this man my hand_ , he told himself smugly. "I know nearly all the secrets of the castle, and many people willing to fight. Together," he murmured, reaching his hand out to Harry, "we shall do great things."
> 
> Harry Fleetfoot hesitated and then took Lord Draco's hand in his.

  


  


"And... and what happened?" The little boy whispered as the King leaned back in the chair.

"Why, ask your father, Teddy," the King told him with a smile. Teddy turned to his father.

"Papa, were you really once a wolf?"

Remus smiled, his eyes warm amber as he nodded.

"And.. and you fought the Evil Pretender?"

"King Harry and Lord Draco did, with many people to help: The Weasley clan, the muse Hermione, the good mage Dumbledore, even miserable Severus," Remus said. "And as you can see, we defeated the Dark Wizard and his Bellatrix."

Teddy's mouth was opened in a comical _O_.

"And, did Lord Draco really become the Royal Consort?"

"Look out the window," Harry Fleetfoot said with a most un-kingly blush and a huge smile; Teddy raced over to look down. The Royal Carriage was under his window again, and he saw a tall, slender man with bright hair gesturing wildly at one of the footmen. "He is _very_ cantankerous, but without him and my friend Remus, I could never do the job I do now. They taught me many things, how to read, how to dance...how to help my kingdom and my people."

"But we could not teach him to be kind," Remus put in. "That is something that Harry Fleetfoot always had in himself."

Teddy scrambled back to bed, and settled in happily as his father tucked him in. "Will you tell me about the Great Battle?" he said sleepily. "I heard that Mama rode on the shoulders of a giant! And.. and that King Harry, he raced a dragon... and... and..."

"That is a story for another day," Remus promised him. "Now, to sleep, my heart."

"You need to say the proper ending," Teddy said in a quiet murmur, even as he struggled to keep his eyes open. "You know the ending, Papa. You have to say it."

"And they lived happily ever after."

Teddy's eyes drooped shut; he sighed in contentment and turned, placing a hand beneath his cheek.

Breathing deeply, he went to sleep.

 _fin_

  


**Author's Note:**

> The font I used for the fancy title is called [Ruritania](http://www.dafont.com/ruritania.font), and I found it on [dafont.com](http://www.dafont.com/).


End file.
